Sunlight and Shadow
by Thalionsul
Summary: Okay, I stink at summaries! Here's what I came up with: Why did it take Boromir so long to reach Rivendell? loosely based on the books and the movies, but more of just a story
1. Childish Wanderings

*Author's Note: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters or locations-yadda yadda you know the drill*

                Birds chirped warily in the tall old trees.  It was as if the little creatures could feel the oncoming presence of evil.  The still air was heavy and stifling to the lungs, making each breath seem labored.  Rilarien walked quietly through the trees, every once in a while touching a gnarled mallorn trunk affectionately with the palm of her hand.  The trees seemed to know she was a friend.  Their lower leaves moved, despite the lack of wind, tickling her ears, causing a smile to break out on her fair face.  She moved with a dignified grace and observed her surroundings.   

 Rilarien wasn't a stranger to the forest.  She had lived most of her life under the protection of the aged trees, and she remembered climbing the high limbs to scope out the rolling land around the thick grove.  Beyond the border, where trees didn't grow, was strange to her because she was forbidden to set foot outside the confines of protection, but something inside of her yearned to wander the flat lands and travel past the lengths of the known world.  She had seen travelers from distance lands, those of men and other elves, but was too frightened to approach their camps.  However the bands of travelers were often afraid to reside in the forest after night, and Rilarien was contented to remain concealed in the heavy vegetation.  She had watched with eager eyes their movements, rituals, and their language had resounded with curiosity in her ears.  

                But today was different; Rilarien could feel in her inner most being the approach of something, something unwanted, something evil.  Keeping her eyes and ears open for the slightest change, Rilarien hurried towards home.  The mallorn-trees of Calas Galadhon were in sight, but something was wrong.  Holding her burgundy skirts high, Rilarien ran around the trunk of a large tree.  The bright brown eyes of her cousin met her, laughing at the startled look that crossed Rilarien's face.    

                "Rien!"  Lómpalan laughed and fell back against the tree holding her stomach.  "You should have seen your eyes, they were larger than the moon."  Her long dark tresses fell around shoulders.  Freckles were sprinkled across her pixie like face, and she nearly bubbled with excitement.

                Rilarien placed a hand to her chest, trying to slow the beating of her heart.  "Lómpalan, where is everybody?"

                The girl shrugged and twirled absentmindedly in circles.  Her lavender silk dress moved like a brook around her slender figure, the silver embroidery on the bodice shimmered in the waxing light of the forest.  Grasping Lómpalan's shoulders, Rilarien shook her slightly, "Something's coming.  Don't you feel it?" she questioned, and a frown creased her forehead.  

                Lómpalan was younger than Rilarien by only a few months, but her pure innocence made her seem younger.  Her dark eyes reflected like mysterious pools and a childlike smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "Feel what Rien?"

                Rilarien moved away from the girl, and closed her eyes.  A cool sweat encased her body, making her shiver.  When she opened her eyes she saw the other elves.  They were doing their normal duties, taking no notice of the two girls.  Her heart started beating faster, and the images before her started to waver slightly.  She could feel a presence encroaching on the sanctity of Lorien.  Something was amiss.  Something was invading Lorien.  Rilarien turned quickly at the disturbing sound of birds squawking, and the flapping of their wings with the sudden flight.  There were more sounds but Lómpalan's voice interrupted Rilarien's thoughts, "Rien?  _Mani naa ta_*what is it*?"

                Just as quick as the feeling had settled on her, it vanished.  Rilarien straightened and smiled at her cousin, "What do you mean?"  Once again Rilarien became her normal self.  Her step was light, and she grasped her cousin's hands to twirl around in circles.  "Come on, race you."

                The challenge set, the girls took off at a quick pace.  Lómpalan took as much pleasure in the run as Rilarien, but she watched her cousin from the corner of her eye.  Something strange was happening, and Lómpalan couldn't place her finger on it.  One moment Rilarien was brimming with mischief but then the next she was as stoic as the Elders.  The anticipated journey to Rivendell had weighed heavily on her own young mind, but that wasn't what concerned Rilarien.  It was as if she had already been accepted into the ranks of an adult elf.  The coming of age ritual was a turning point in every elf's life, and both girls took the ceremony seriously, but for the past couple of days, Rilarien seemed preoccupied.  When Lómpalan went to search out her older cousin, she was often found wandering the forest, touching the trees, and basking in the sunlight streaming through the dense foliage.  A far away look graced her face, turning her gray eyes dark with indescribable mystery.  Lómpalan didn't make it a habit to spy on her cousin, but a spark of concern was forming in her heart.  It was as if Rilarien was being called away by an invisible somebody.  

***

                Arrows were drawn and ready for a quick attack, but they were lowered.  The guardians of the borders melted back into the dense underbrush.  Orders from Galadriel forced them to take such action, and they were not the type to question authority.  They let the stranger pass unfettered.  

The water from the stream was cool and inviting as Boromir washed his face.  The grime from a hard day's ride floated down the brisk current, and dissolved into nothing.  That's what it felt like.  It was as if the whole day's ride was wasted.  The world seemed to be turning under the steady hooves of his mount, but Boromir was going nowhere.  The forest looked the same in every place, the same tall dark trees, muffled atmosphere, and dewy outlook on life.  When he entered the woods, time seemed to stand still.  Beauty became intensified, but so did the feeling of dread.  He wanted to leave the forest, but he had to pass through on his journey.  He knew he was being watched, he could feel the eyes of many elves, but he could not see them.  The dense underbrush hid all beings from sight, and that fact alone was enough to cause the Captain of Gondor to tense with suspicion.  It was quiet in the land, almost too quiet, and Boromir wondered why he hadn't been forcibly removed by the possessive elves that guarded these borders.   

                Without pausing to think, Boromir dove for cover at the first sounds of someone, or something, approaching.  The bushes at the base of the large tree were more than adequate for his size, and his mount long since had grazed its way over the knoll for better grasses.  The lower branches of the ancient trees seemed to come alive with the approach of the thing.  The leaves became translucent, spilling light onto the darkest areas of the wood, and the air became sweeter with the heady perfume of the earth.  Mischievous giggling echoed through the leaves and moss, caressing Boromir's ears.  He watched with wonder as two elves bounded from behind one of the more ancient wooden monsters, and proceeded to chase each other through a winding maze of trunks.  Their laughter was as light as their feet.  With skirts hitched to their knees to capture the ability to run and cheeks fully colored by the coolness of the day, Boromir was mesmerized.  Both were slender and beautiful, ordinary elves he figured.

                "Can't catch me!" called the taller one in a musical voice, weaving her way through a tangle of roots.  Her long dark hair fell freely about her shoulders, down her back, and her burgundy dress accented the merriment on her face.  

                The shorter elf maid popped up from nowhere, scrunching her pixie like face into a playful glare before erupting into gleeful smiles.  Hiking her lavender skirt higher and dancing a little with her bare feet, she called back, "No fair _selen_ *cousin*! You're legs are longer."  

The other paused besides one of the older trees in the forest.  Her back was to Boromir but he could still her laugh at the shorter elf, "Come on, you little wood sprite, you know that's wrong.  You're small, but quick."  The pursuit continued, but both girls came to rest at the waters edge, panting with laughter and exhaustion.  Their cheeks were rosy pink, and their eyes bright.  More giggles bubbled from the girls as they splashed in the stream and settled contently on the grass.  Their friendly chatter carried throughout the density of the forest's atmosphere.  With sweet voices they sang:

"I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:

Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.

Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,

And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.

Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,

In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,

While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.

O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;

The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.

O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore

And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.

But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,

What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?"

                Their voices carried through the air, merriment locked in the sadness of the song.  Giggles arose as soon as the last melody faded, and once again they were carefree.

                "What were you doing in the wood today, Rilarien?"  The unnamed one asked as she ran drenched fingers through her dark hair.  Boromir strained to listen.  He felt like he had wandered into a dream, and the lovely creatures before him were just figments of his imagination.  

                Rien lay back in the long grass, tucked a lock of hair behind a pointed ear, and plucked a wildflower to twirl between her fingers, "Nothing, just remembering.  Talking to the trees mostly.  I'll miss them the most.  Why?"  She sat up and thrust the blue flower in her friend's face, "Where you spying on me, Lómpalan daughter of Daedhel?"  A wide smile crossed Lómpalan's face.

                "Rilarien, you just have…become slightly…slightly strange.  I miss the old Rien, the one that's with me right now.  We're not adults yet.  Come," Lómpalan stretched her hands out to her cousin, "Let's capture our youth before we must depart for Imladris.  Let's…" Rilarien quieted her by placing a finger to her lips.  She watched with sharp eyes as Boromir's mount wandered back over the knoll.  

                The animal was docile and wouldn't harm the girls, he knew, but Boromir also knew the creature would latch onto his scent and proceed to uncover his hiding place.  The minor distraction of the horse had disturbed Boromir's focus on the girls.  When he looked back to the stream, all that was left of them was bent grass blades and the single plucked wildflower.  From his vantage point he could no longer see where they had gone.  On semi-silent feet he tried to creep to the place they last were.  He stood to his full height when he could not find a single footprint of where they had vanished to, but froze when he felt cold metal upon his neck.  

                "Turn around slowly."  All merriment had vanished from the once laughing voice, and Boromir pivoted back to view his captors.  The two elf maids stood before him, Rien with the tip of her sword pressed to his neck, and Lómpalan's hand resting on her own weapon.  The decorated elven blade did not quiver, but was held steady.  "_Ya naa lle ar' mankoi naa lle sinome_*who are you and why are you here*?"

                Boromir opened his mouth to speak, but the shorter elf caught his gaze.  "Rien…_En_ *look*."  Rilarien's cold gray eyes shifted from Boromir to the open plains.  Something was coming.  Lowering her sword, the bold elf suddenly turned white.  Her eyes grew round with fright, and a strangled gasp forced its way through her lips.  Dropping her weapon, Rien grabbed her cousin, "Go tell someone.  Rima Palan, lle are faster than amin." * Go tell someone.  Run Palan, you're faster than me.*Shoving the shorter elf with both hands, Rilarien stumbled on her long skirts, but Lómpalan took off like a scared rabbit, not bothering to look back because she knew her cousin could fend for herself.

                Grabbing her before she fell, Boromir held onto Rien despite her struggle.  He could feel her trembling.  "What's coming?" he hissed into her ear.  

                Rilarien had lost all her bravery, and she shrunk away from the words.  Trying her best to protest the steel like arms that held her captive, nothing could escape her lips except for: "_Asca… Nurta_! *Hurry…Hide!*"

                Boromir's grip tightened around her, squeezing the very air from her, "I don't speak Elvish, girl.  I know you speak common! Now, tell me, what is coming?"

Rilarien's voice squeaked as she spoke. "Trees…Get in the trees…we need to get away from the plains…"  

                Abandoning the wandering horse, Boromir pulled Rilarien into the forests, searching for an appropriate hiding spot.  He could hear the strangled breath of the elf as she struggled to keep up with his fast pace.  Her long skirts were heeding the process.  Stopping momentarily Boromir grasped a handful of the material, jerking it from under her feet.  With one arm around her waist, and his other surrounded by cloth, Boromir easily lifted her, but his pace quickened despite the added load.  He could hear in his mind the heavy breathing of whatever was coming.  They were close, and Boromir didn't want to wait around to find out if they were friendly or not.  He hoisted himself and his captive up into the tallest tree he could find.  The branches were thick and heavily foliaged, but he kept climbing higher for a better vantage point.  From that height he watched as what seemed like hundreds of orcs infested the once pristine woodlands.  

                Rilarien cried out when she saw the creatures start to beat at her beloved trees with axes and pull the ancient monsters down with ropes.  Boromir clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle the cries.  Her hands flew to his arm, pulling with all her might, but his hand would not budge.  He watched with curiosity and wonderment as he tried to understand their actions.  He could feel Rilarien's hot tears slid down the back of his hand, but didn't dare look at her.  She had mentioned missing the trees the most to her cousin, and with every hit of those axes, the orcs were destroying something more beautiful than the forests of Lorien.  

                As quick as they had come, the orcs shouldered their butchered prizes and once again took off running.  Where had they come from?  Why did they want the trees?  Boromir couldn't figure it out.  Once again the thick quiet of the forest returned.  A few wary birds started singing again, but the leaves had ceased dancing.  Instead the foliage drooped, and hung lifeless on their branches.  Where the trees in mourning?  _What queer happenings_, Boromir thought.  He had forgotten about Rilarien until she resumed her struggling. 

                She was no longer timid, but fierce and desperate to separate herself from him.  She didn't realize how close he had been holding her until the orcs had retreated.  Alarm swept through her, and the feeling of his arm around her waist repulsed her.  "Easy." Boromir soothed in a voice deep and gentle like he would use for a spooked horse.  He found himself almost overpowered by the girl, trying his best to climb back down the tree but still keep his hold on her.  They were mere feet from the ground, but holding both his weight and the girl's was too much.  Surrendering to the pull of gravity and hoping for a pile of leaves for the landing, Boromir let go of the tree.

                Rilarien had just turned in his arms enough to make eye contact, and was shocked to feel herself falling towards the ground.  _His eyes are gray_, was the last thought that crossed her mind before impact.  

The fall knocked the air out of Boromir, but he hadn't received the worst of it.  The elf somehow had ended up under him and had knocked her head on an exposed root.  He knew she wasn't dead because of the strong pulse in her neck, but the sight frightened him.  Pushing long strands of hair away from her face, Boromir stared.  He had seen few elves in his day, but she definitely shadowed the notorious beauty of that race.  High cheekbones, pretty mouth, and long lashed eyes were framed by a halo of inky hair.  Remnants of freckles dotted her ivory skin.  The fine sketches of youth were not entirely erased from her face, but the shadows of adulthood were starting to leave their marks upon her brow.  Not knowing exactly what he should do, Boromir picked the girl up and started walking in the direction that Lómpalan had run.  She was limp, almost like a doll he had seen a young girl carrying back in Gondor.  If the girl were as fast as Rilarien had said, other elves would soon be coming.  


	2. Lompalan

*Tolkien's stuff is his own, not mine!*    

Lómpalan had felt her cousin shove her, and had heard her cry out as she fell, but beyond that, she had no knowledge of what happened.  They both had seen orcs before, alive and dead, but the thought of close combat was dreadful.  Lómpalan shivered with distaste as she bounded over snags in the ground.  The breath flowed easily from her lungs, and she felt as free as a bird with the wind whistling past her ears and stinging her open eyes.  

                "Erndil!" she cried, waving a free hand in the air, the other was clutching her skirts.  Erndil was a close friend of both Lómpalan and Rilarien, and he smiled openly as she came to an abrupt halt before him.  "Orcs…" she panted, "Orcs near the stream…"

                Erndil's face clouded over and the smile disappeared.  He clutched her shoulders and leaned his face closer to hers, "How many?" 

                Running her hands over her face, Lómpalan shook her head, "I don't know…there were enough to cover the hillside…Rien's still out there Erndil."  She watched as his face twisted into a grimace.  The alarm was raised, and Lómpalan scampered out of the way as numerous silent feet ran towards the stream.  

Erndil grasped Lómpalan's forearm to catch her attention, "Why isn't Rilarien with you?  Why'd you two go out to the edge of the forest in the first place?  You know you're forbidden!"  His light blue eyes sparked with anger, and his mouth was set in a firm thin line.  The blonde elf seemed to tower of Palan, his presence menacing and overpowering to the younger elf.  Lómpalan didn't realize how frightening Erndil appeared when he was upset.  

                The girl shrunk away from the Erndil, tears flooded her beautiful eyes, "We were having fun, Erndil.  That's all.  We didn't mean any harm.  We were talking at the stream when we noticed an abandoned horse wandering towards us.  Rien was curious, and we hid in the tall grass.  A stranger crept out of the bush, and we confronted him.  That's when I noticed the orcs running towards Lorien.  Honest Erndil, we didn't mean any harm.  We forgot about not wandering too close to the edge of the woods.  I'm sorry…we forgot…" The tears spilled openly onto her cheek, and her thin shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.  

                Realizing how troubled the girl was Erndil released his grip and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  Lómpalan found comfort in his embrace.  "_Amin hiraetha_ *I'm sorry*…" he spoke just loud enough for her to hear, "We'll find her."  With that he pivoted on his heel and ran after the group of elves.  Lómpalan hugged herself and hurried home.  

______________

never thought I'd beg for someone to review, but please do, flame if you want to! Feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you hate the story line…


	3. Unsure Feelings

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's ideas, characters, etc…

_They were only over the hill, Rilarien assured herself, forcing her chubby legs to go faster.  Darkness clouded the sky, menacing bolts of lightning flashed in the distance.  A wind had begun to pick up.  The various grasses stirred, moving like a gossamer gown delicately draped around a dancing figure.  A spark of longing ignited in the little girl.  Deep in her mind she imagined the spray of salty water and crashing waves, but the imagery was shattered as she fell hard on her hands and knees.  _

_                On all fours she crawled up the remainder of the hill, tentatively peeking over, expecting to see her mother and father wrapped in a fond embrace while ambling toward their daughter.  But the horror that meet her young eyes was something she did not expect to see._

_                The dancing blades of grass waved their scarlet stained tips at the girl, trying to paint the sky above them with the atrocious vividness.  Cries filled with anguish, wrenched deep from the very nadir of their beings, caressed Rilarien's tender ears with stinging cruelty.  Like hot tongues of fire, the very noise flicked in and out of her, carving the hellish din deep into her memory.  The little girl's eyes widened as she took in the contrast of once placid green against startling red.  As if by motherly instinct, Tindómëwen looked up, locking eyes with her child.  Rilarien was shocked to see their usual calm depths tortured and tumultuous.  _

_                The blue eyes blinked and grew wide.  A long slow shudder vibrated through the elf as the last blow was given, then the eyes suddenly stopped their frantic searching, growing misty and cold._

_                "Atara _*mother*_." The little elf whispered.  _

_                An orc raised his eyes to the slight disturbance._

_                "Atar_*father*_!" Rilarien screamed as the creature started toward her, but she receive no answer._

***

                Rilarien groaned and reached up to touch the back of her head.  A wave of nausea washed over her, and she strained to open her eyes.  

                "Feeling better?"  A quiet voice asked her, and the sickening memories came back.  Her eyes snapped open, and she glared at Boromir.  Pushing him away, Rilarien tried to stand.  As gently as he could, he set her down on her feet.  She hadn't been heavy; not a burden for the solid man, but Boromir could feel the void she left in his arms.  Rilarien staggered away from him, slightly disorientated, and searched her waist for her sword.  "You lost it back there.  Pity, it was a beautiful piece of weaponry."  She looked up at him, taken aback by his presence.  

                "You brought those orcs to Lorien."  The icy conviction was out of Rilarien's mouth before she could stop it.  Her cheeks paled.  Never before had she dared to accuse someone of an awful deed.  

                Boromir chuckled and reached out to steady her as she stumbled backwards away from him.  "On the contrary, my lady, I had nothing to do with those creatures.  I am bound for Rivendell and stopped only to refresh myself at the stream that you and your friend also occupied."  

Rilarien jerked away from his touch, but she did her best to conceal the pain that was traveling through her body.  Sticking her chin defiantly in the air, Rien stood her ground, "Convenient resting place for a questionable character.  Imladris is many leagues from here."

                Boromir erupted with laughter, "'Questionable character' you say?  Well, my lady, I am the least of your worries if you believe that.  Apparently you have not ventured past the borders of your safe haven to have experience the real 'questionable characters' that roam this land.  And yes, I know that Rivendell is far from here, and I will risk venturing through the mountains to obtain my destination, but this side journey, if you must know, was unavoidable.  I was pursued to these borders, and was very grateful the refreshment of the waters."

                Rilarien opened her mouth the protest, but a voice from behind her cut her off: "Rilarien! _Tula sinome_ *come here*!"  

                Turning, Rilarien scanned the forest, searching, until she spotted him.  "Erndil!"  She called back, waving her arm up in the air.  A broad smile claimed her face, and she rushed forward to meet him.  

                The light-haired elf pulled her into a fast embrace.  A confused look flitted across her face as she felt his arms tighten securely, almost possessively, around her.  He held her close, relieved that he found her, before holding her out at arms length, "Rilarien, _en amin_.  _Mani marte_? *Look at me.  What happened?*"  His light blue eyes were clouded with concern.  Rilarien smiled at him, touched at the emotion that flitted across his face.  

                "She's fine.  Just a slight fall and a small bump on the head.  Your lady elf is very much alive and well."  Boromir interjected.  He was surrounded by several elves, and his hands were raised partially in the air.  The rest of the group continued to the edge of the forest.  

                Erndil's face turned to stone as he eyed the intruder.  The stranger was tall with a face that was both fair and noble.  Dark hair was shorn about his shoulders, the gray eyes placid, but he was proud and unyielding in the way he observed the surrounding territory.  His clothing was noble, but stained with the weathering of travel.  Placing himself between Rilarien and the trespasser, Erndil sized up the stranger, and found himself smirking, "By your dress and nature you must be from the south."

                "Gondor.  My name is Boromir, son of Steward Denethor."  Boromir noted Rilarien peeking over Erndil's shoulder, her eyes wide with curiosity overshadowed by caution.  But there was something else there.  He watched as she also evaluated his appearance.  Inwardly he sneered.  Boromir was not a dense man.  He saw how Erndil had situated himself between the girl and him, and how she discreetly peered around the tall barrier, still curious in nature.

                The blonde elf spoke, his face stoic.  He hated the words that passed his lips, but the Lady of the Wood had given specific instructions, "I'm sure your journey has been a long and difficult ride.  Please consider the trees of Lorien a temporary resting place for the night.  The trees of Calas Galadhon will offer you sanctuary and solitude."

                Boromir was surprised by the generous offer and was greatly amused by the astonished look that passed over Rilarien's face.  "I am in debt to your generosity, but I must insure the safety of my mount."  Feeling in a mischievous mood, Boromir decided to press his fortune, "My lady," he bowed, "Would you do me the honor of escorting me back to Calas Galadhon after I have fetched my horse from wandering in the plains land?"  

Bright red splotches broke out on her cheeks, like that of a full-blown rose.  She tried to reply, but Erndil quickly cut her off.  "I am afraid that she must accompany me back to Lorien.  Her family awaits news of her, and any detour would only increase their concern with the passing time.  However, Nurrantion here would be more than willing to help you maneuver your way back to the trees of Lorien."  Boromir thanked Erndil, and a silent escort clad in muted tones and armed with a bow stepped forward.  Boromir watched with curiosity as Erndil took Rilarien's arm and led her back to Lorien.  She submissively followed, much like a trained dog on a leash, but she cast a glance back at him, giving him a timid, but cautious smile. 

***

                Once they were out of sight of the intruder, Erndil stopped, motioning to his companions to proceed forward.  With raised eyebrows, they did so.

                Still holding Rilarien's arm, Erndil leaned forward, peering down into her face.  He knew her.  They had grown up together.  Something was stirring behind the innocent façade of her drawn face.  There was a flicker, a slight movement like a gentle swell on the ocean, in her gray eyes.  

                Recoiling slightly from the intense inspection, Rilarien forced the breath from her lungs.  "What?" she questioned.  The grip on her arm was growing tighter with each passing moment.  Erndil did not realize his actions until Rilarien's face contoured with pain.

                "You have changed."  He growled.  His once laughing lips were drawn into a thin line, his blue eyes were hard and cold, and he drew himself up to tower over Rilarien.

                "I have not."  The denial was quick and sharp.  She returned his glare for but a moment before shoving him and taking off laughing through the woods.  Her feet were light, but Erndil was faster.  As she looked over her shoulder to see if he was in pursuit, but the woods were void behind her.  Slightly baffled she ran forward, only to be caught by Erndil.  His arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground in a swirl of skirts and peals of laughter, and for a moment a light smile curled his lips upward, but it quickly faded.  The stoic face confronted her as he backed her against a tree.  

                Even his voice had grown hard, "You're hiding something."

                "And if I am?"  Rilarien teased, but her friend remained quiet.  

                He leaned down, she could feel his breath on her face, it was warm like the summer breeze, "I will find it out."  He hesitated.  Rilarien's blood ran cold.  He was not the elf she knew him to be.  With smooth deliberate movements, Erndil gently kissed Rilarien's forehead before turning and beckoning her to follow him to Calas Galadhon.

                Shaken, she followed at a distance, pondering the happenings.

***

                Lómpalan was the first to grab hold of Rilarien and not let go.  The younger girl shook with silent sobs, but her pretty dark eyes were dry when she pulled away.  "What happened Rien?" she questioned, but Rilarien could only shrug.  She couldn't remember, or if she did, she couldn't find the words to describe what went on.  

                By the coming of evening, all the trees in Lorien bore drooping leaves.  No wind dared to stir them, and even when Rilarien wandered once again among them they remained the same.  The brightness of day had passed, and the trees began to moan and creak at the close of day.  Rilarien pressed her palm against rough bark, but the tingling feeling she had receive that afternoon didn't return.  Silent tears fell down her cheeks, blotching the burgundy of her dress as she sat at the foot of her favorite tree.  A chill settled in the land.  In a way she was ready to leave for Imladris.  

                Imladris, the place of her birth and the resting place of her mother and father.  Daedhel was kind to take in his only niece after the sudden passing of his sister and brother-in-law.  He had given Rilarien the very same treatment as his own daughter, and she was grateful for his kindness.  She wasn't raised with the foreboding feeling that she was an outcast in her own home, but with the ever-present reality that she was accepted as part of the family.  Nonetheless, Rilarien felt set apart from her cousin, different from the elves of Lorien.  Lómpalan was please to have Rilarien as a cousin, and a surrogate sister, and Lorien proved to be a place of endless wanderings and timeless memories.  Childhood hadn't been easy for the orphaned elf, but it hadn't been hard either.  Mischief usually flowed freely with Rilarien, and she spent most of her childhood dragging her cousin on endless adventures, battling imaginary enemies and running free.  And now she was returning to Imladris to be inducted into the ranks of adulthood.  She closed her eyes and rested her head against the tree as her uncle's words came pouring back into her mind.

                Daedhel was quick to corner his niece after Lómpalan left her alone.  His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists.  Instead of bowing, Rilarien dropped into a quick curtsy.  She could see the anger, impatience, and worry in his eyes.  "Niece," Daedhel began.  His voice trembled a little when he started, but quickly grew into the steady, powerful voice Rilarien was used to.  "For many years you have been dodging direct commands and seeking out trouble.  Your obedience is shaky at best.  And I for one am upset at the fact that you had to bring your cousin along for this little trip into the forest.  I know you are fascinated with the world beyond the boundaries of Lorien."  A remembering smile claimed his face, "Your mother also had the same fascination, and she also pushed the limits of the boundaries given to her.  But unlike your mother, you have no control over your actions Rien."  He turned to face her, surprised to find her standing quietly, head bowed, hands clasped before her.  "You scared me today, Rilarien."  She looked up at him as tears rimmed her eyes.  Daedhel found himself taken aback.  She was the mirror image of his sister.  Tindómëwen had been more than a simple sibling for Daedhel; she had been a friend, a silent support in times of trouble, but a barrier of strong resistance when crossed.  He found himself regretting the words that had been exchanged on their last meeting.  Here before him was his sister's daughter, and she possessed the same characteristic; he knew he had to tread carefully.  Daedhel continued, "I thought I was going to loose the last physical link to my beloved sister, your mother.  I am upset that you would deliberately disobey me, but I was also concerned about your safety."

                Her chin quivered but rose as she confronted her uncle, "I understand your worry.  I did not mean to place myself, and especially not Lómpalan, in any sort of danger.  We were…we were having fun, uncle."  She paused to find the courage to go on, "These past few years, I have never disobeyed you or any member of the council.  I have lived my life like you instructed me, and every day I found myself closer and closer to being bound by your words.  I respect you uncle.  I am thankful that you found it in your heart to take in an orphan.  I love you and Lómpalan like my own father and sister."  The tears continued to fall, but Rilarien's voice grew stronger, "But you cannot, uncle…you cannot tell me how to live.  You have placed me in a box, and I am not content to reside there for the rest of my life."

                "But you must!" Daedhel cut in.  His voice rose slightly, but dropped back to its normal soothing volume, "When we travel to Imladris, and you and your cousin recite the coming-of-age rite you will have to live under the boundaries that Lord Elrond will give to you.  You will be a lady in his court.  Galadriel and Celeborn have been lenient, to say the least, with you.  Rilarien, I see you as my daughter, and I'm worried about you."

                Nodding her head slightly Rilarien interrupted, "I know that I have been…trying at times, but I have gotten better.  I will fit into that box, the one that our society has carved for me, but now is not that time.  I have a few more days of freedom before I have to fully become an adult, and by that time I will be ready to take on my responsibilities in Lord Elrond's court, uncle.  I have never disappointed you to that extent, and I never intend to."

                The muscles in Daedhel's jaw were working furiously.  Pointing his finger at her then at himself he said curtly, "_You_ live the life _I_ tell you, and that means now Rilarien.  Enough of the childishness, I expect you to be the lady your mother always wanted you to be."  He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.  Anger flashed in Rien's eyes as she eased her door shut.  Leaning her head back against the solidness of the wood she spoke to the empty room, "I will not be told how to live my life."

                The memory hung like a darkened shadow over her head as Rilarien pondered the coming of age ceremony, and inwardly questioned her abilities.  She didn't understand why it was necessary that they return to Rivendell, but she knew better than to question the ways of the council or her uncle.  The walk back to Lorien was lingering.  She knew even without being told that she would not be returning with her uncle and cousin.  Imladris was the place of her birth, the resting place of her parents, and a member of the court would take her in until she was married or otherwise taken care of.  It was not a pleasant thought but she took comfort in knowing that the journey would take several days, and in that time period she would still be able to frolic, but this time under the watchful eyes of her uncle and several others that would be accompanying them.  

                Her mind was occupied with other things, and Rilarien jumped slightly when Boromir tapped her on the shoulder.  He bowed slightly and presented her sword, the blade held tenderly in his gloved hands and the jeweled hilt thrust towards her.  She accepted the item, and placed it back in its sheath.  He noted that she was still clad in the same garments, but was more composed and quiet.  An aura of sadness encased her, and her gray eyes were paler then before.

                "I would have given it to you earlier," Boromir began, "But it seemed that your body guard wouldn't let me within several feet of you."

                Rilarien tilted her head in question, but smiled when she realized that he was talking about Erndil.  "That's just Erndil.  We have been friends since my childhood.  He is a bit over protective, but a solid friend in times of trouble."

                "He seemed more than a friend to me."  

                The elf politely stepped back from Boromir, her face stoic.  "If you'll excuse me sir, my family awaits."

                Boromir stepped in her path as she tried to pass him, "Ah yes, the same family that would have died waiting if you would have accompanied me back to the edge of the forest.  My lady, if you do not mind me say so, but you do not seem like one who is compliant by nature.  Why did you pick that moment to follow Lord Erndil?"

                "I, sir…" Rilarien started.

                "Boromir."

                "Son of Steward Denethor.  Yes I know.  You're also Captain of the armies of Gondor.  You are known, sir, and I do not have to answer to you.  I answer to my uncle at this time, and when I travel to Imladris, I will answer to whom ever I am assigned to."  Her expression was sad.  Boromir started to speak, but Rilarien raised her hand to cut him off, "You live in a land that has different customs, rituals, than that of the elves, and you could not fully understand the inner happenings of my people.  There are times that I act by conscience, that I do things by my own accord, but I still must respect my elders, and, despite the fact that he is my friend, Erndil is my elder.  He took me out of a situation that he believed to be harmful, and who was I to argue with one who possesses more wisdom than myself?  I thank you for the return of my sword.  Tis… tis special to me." A small smile teased the corners of her mouth as her fingers caressed the silver hilt, but disappeared as she looked up at him.  "But by all means, this does not mean I am in your debt.  If you'll excuse me…" She brushed past him, but he caught her arm.

                Boromir wasn't one to remain silent, "I saved your life, _Lady_.  You owe me more than you know."

                Rilarien stared at Boromir for a long second, searching his face for a chink in his armor.  Not finding a strain of compassion, she gently wrenched her arm from his grasp, and walked silently away.  He watched her melt quietly into the night, before he cast his eyes up to the stars, which were partially hidden by the foliage.  The branches seemed to bend down towards him as if they were reaching out.  A chill crept up his spine, and Boromir hurried back to the safety of Lorien's mellyrn.

___________

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	4. Under her Skin

The days passed easily in Lorien, and Boromir found himself in the company of Rilarien more often than he expected.  The elf eagerly showed him the spectacular beauty of the surround land.  She filled his ears with tales of her people and her own experiences as they wandered.  More often then not Rilarien found herself distracted by the closeness of Boromir.  As he pointed out the natural beauty of Lorien, she would catch herself examining his profile against the green of the trees.  Even though he was mortal, Rilarien couldn't help the butterflies that invaded her stomach when he would grasp her hand to steady her or help her over an obstacle.  Inwardly she would remind herself of his mortality, but as the days progressed, she began to wonder if he also felt the butterflies.  

As the noon sun rose upon the land, she pressed Boromir's hand against the trunk of an aged mallorn tree.  He laughed as a deep tingling invaded his skin, and Rilarien's own laughter echoed his.  "I've never had that happen before," he admitted as they walked back to Calas Galadhon.

                Rilarien shrugged, "Nor have many elves.  My cousin hasn't yet experienced it, but she is too busy to fully understand."

                "Understand what?"

                "The connection.  It's…difficult to explain."

                Boromir kicked at a clump of dirt on the ground, "Why is it that you have that connection?"

                Rilarien laughed lightly and smiled.  She shook her head as she looked at Boromir, "You are full of questions, Captain.  When I first came to Lorien, I spent many hours among the trees, not talking, just absorbing their presence.  It was a way to remember my parents, and the life I led in Imladris.  The trees understood my grief, and they comforted me.  I am at home when I'm with them."  

                "You're not at home here?"

                Rilarien merely looked at Boromir, her mouth opened but closed quickly.  Changing the subject, she cleared her throat, "Do you think I'm getting better with the sword?"

                Sensing her awkwardness, Boromir dropped the subject and replied, "Yes, you have much improved."

                Their conversation stayed on the subject of weaponry as they approached the city.  It wasn't invigorating talk, but both were so deeply involved they almost ran into Erndil.  The blond elf had spotted them from afar and made sure he was in their path of return.  Armed with his bow and quiver of arrows, he stopped them.  A smile spread across Rilarien's face as she greeted her friend.  "Erndil, Boromir said that I have much improved in the sword."  The stated fact was mundane, but the elf showed all interest.

                "Indeed, Rien, I never doubted you and your abilities.  In fact I am headed off to practice myself.  Would you care to join me?"  Erndil did his best to ignore the man besides Rilarien by keeping his focus on her.  He was disappointed to observe her brow wrinkle, and the smile fade from her face.

                "I'm sorry, but I promised to show Boromir more of Lorien.  He's leaving soon, and the probability of his returning is very unlikely."

                The elf hesitated, but took a small step backwards.  Icy blue eyes looked the intruder up and down before he glanced back to Rilarien.  A forced smile transformed his face as he shifted his gaze, "That's alright.  I'll practice by myself then.  Maybe after Captain Boromir leaves we can practice together.  Or," The elf's gaze shifted once again to Boromir, "It might be sport to spar with the mortal, testing his abilities."  Despite the fact that they were a short distance away, Rilarien could almost feel Boromir stiffen.  

                Not wanting a conflict, Rilarien was quick to interject, "Lómpalan would most likely enjoy the opportunity to exercise her archery skills.  Why don't you ask her Erndil?  By this time she and Daedhel are back from the courts of Galadriel and Celeborn.  It would do her good to get out in the air for a while."

                He curtly nodded his head; "I will take that into consideration.  If you'll excuse me."  He turned and left, and the two continued their wanderings through the woods.  

***

                "Rien!" Lómpalan's excited voice carried through the room.  She clasped her cousin's hands and started dancing around in a circle.  

                Rilarien, who was tired from a day of trekking, laughed with Palan, but pulled her to a stop, "What is it Palan?  You seem so bubbly, so full of life.  What happened today with Galadriel and Celeborn?  Did you practice archery with Erndil?  I know how you are fond of him."

                Beaming, the younger elf plopped down on her bed and tucked her slippered feet under her, "Same as yesterday."  She blushed at the comment about Erndil, "We did practice, but not for long.  He ran off to the west, saying he had important business to attend to.  But back to Galadriel and Celeborn; we are invited to the feast!"  She nearly squealed as she jumped up and bounced over to Rilarien.  The pixie face shone with delight.

                Confused Rilarien tilted her head to the side, "What feast?"

                Throwing her hands up and rolling her eyes, Lómpalan whined, "Rilarien, where have you been today?"  The girl talked fluently with her hands, "It's a proper feast for the arrival of the Mirkwood guests.  They have been hailed by Elrond and travel to Imladris…"

                Rilarien screwed her face up with distaste, "Oh no, not another night of talking politics and…"

                Shrieking slightly, Palan shook her cousin's shoulders, "Of course there will be that talk, but the King of Mirkwood will be there, along with his son, and many others of his court.  While Celeborn and Thranduil talk politics, we will be able to dance and make merry for the entire evening.  Isn't this a grand send off Rilarien?  Galadriel insisted that we attend as ladies and partake in the festivities.  Isn't this exciting?"

                "Yes, yes, yes, very exciting Palan.  But what are you going to wear?"  Drawing the attention to Lómpalan's clothes was a sure way to distract the girl.  Palan clapped her hands to her cheeks to cover her open mouth.

                Frowning the elf charged to the adjoining room, pausing just long enough to capture her cousin's arm and drag her along.  Menageries of clothes were pulled from their hangers, but all were discarded by the girl.  Rilarien leaned against the door, her arms crossed, and a sweet smile gracing her face.  Lómpalan surely was a character.  Frustrated Palan thrust her hands on her hips, "And what, pray tell, will you be wearing this evening?"  

                Reaching around her cousin, Rilarien disentangled an indigo gown.  Along with her dress, she removed a sea green outfit with simple gold stitching around the hems.  "Uncle wisely chose this lovely gown for you, my cousin.  He knew you would panic, and this proves to be a smart match for your coloring."  Lómpalan strained to remove her present dress, and Rilarien laughed out loud as the girl tumbled over the strewn clothes on the floor.  "Be patience, my dear Palan!" Rien laughed as she helped untie the laces.  "You will be more than ready for a night of dancing and merry making by the time I have finished with you."

                Lómpalan's chatter filled the room as Rilarien brushed out her cousin's hair.  The topics changed frequently, and Rilarien couldn't help but laugh at the child-like quality her cousin had.  But then Palan started talking about things that had happened of late.  Staring at Rien in the mirror, Palan inquired, "Do you think the Captain of Gondor will be attending the feast tonight?"  The elf might have possessed an innocent character, but she understood more than she let on.  With sharp eyes she observed her cousin visibly stiffen.  Rilarien's cheeks grew red as she caught Palan's gaze in the mirror, and she quickly turned to occupy herself with accessories.  "You like him."  It wasn't a question, but a statement.

                "He's an interesting character, yes.  Anyway, he's teaching me how to wield a sword." Rilarien sighed and starting braiding Lómpalan's long tresses.  Trying to combat the inquisitive questions, Rien shot one back to her cousin, "You like Erndil."

                "That's different."

                "How so?"  Not liking what her fingers had produced, Rilarien ran the brush back through Palan's hair.

                Craning her neck to look her cousin in the face, Lómpalan spoke, her words stinging Rilarien: "He's an elf, Rien, one of our kind, not a mortal man."  The brush stopped and clattered to the floor.  Lómpalan turned to face her cousin.  "I see how you look at him, and how often that gaze is returned.  Why a mere mortal Rilarien?  He's simplistic, unknowledgeable, and stubborn in his mortal ways.  His doom is assured."

                Much to Lómpalan's surprise, Rilarien simply shrugged her shoulders timidly.  " 'The doom of men is mortality, freedom from the circles of this world.'  I cannot answer you _selen_ *cousin*.  Right now I am urged on by something stronger than common sense.  I realize he is just a mortal, but I am comforted by his presence, and I am drawn to him.  Your concern for my well-being warms my heart Palan, but, if this is fate, it cannot be changed."  

                Not wanting to explain further, Rilarien resumed the task of preparing Lómpalan for her first feast.

***

Rilarien had been right, and both young elves were ready for the evening.  The gowns were beautiful on them, and with expert hands Rien had woven sparkling jewels into Palan's dark locks to form an intricate braided creation.  A simple emerald choker graced her narrow neck, and her wrists were decked with matching bracelets.  She was a shimmering creature, nervous with excitement and childlike enthusiasm.  Unlike her cousin, Rilarien merely pulled half of her dark locks back and decorated the simplicity with an intricate circlet of silver.  The only adornment she wore was a long silver chain that held a delicate sun made of gold.  It was Lómpalan's night to shine, and Rilarien gladly gave the honor to her cousin.  Daedhel escorted them, and Rilarien nearly lost all breath as she beheld the banquet hall.  Daedhel led Rilarien and Lómpalan before Celeborn and Galadriel and properly introduced the two.

                "My lord and lady," Daedhel began, "May I introduce to you my daughter, Lómpalan, of whom you met earlier, and my niece Rilarien, the daughter of my deceased sister, Tindómëwen."  Both girls curtsied gracefully and bowed their heads.  

                Galadriel nodded her approval of the young elves; a smile adorned her beautiful face.  "Tis good to see you again young Lómpalan.  I must say you have grown more beautiful from the last time I saw you.  Daedhel is surely blessed."  The once giddy girl had blossomed into a reserved and dignified adult.  She smiled and bowed to the lady of the Lorien.  Galadriel turned her gaze upon Daedhel's niece.  "Rilarien."  She let the name roll gently off her tongue.  "Lovely name for a lovely elf."

                "Thank you, my lady." Rilarien whispered, bowing her head like Lómpalan.

                _Your path is changing, child.  For better or worse, I do not know.  Look to the south, daughter of both Lorien and Imladris, for there your answer lies._  Rilarien's eyes grew wide as she looked upon Galadriel.  The small smile still adorned her lips, but her eyes seemed to look down into Rilarien's very soul.  _You feel the coming.  Embrace that feeling and follow your heart.  Your time will come, Rilarien, daughter of_ _Tindómëwen.  Your time will come._

                "The resemblance to your mother is striking.  Tis a pleasure to have you in this court, Rilarien."  Celeborn's voice cut through Rilarien's thoughts.  Rien's head jerked up to stare at the lord, but her eyes flitted back to the Lady of the Wood.  Galadriel merely nodded her head.  Smiles touched both their faces as Celeborn finished, "Will we be experiencing any of your notorious mischief this evening?"

                "No, my lord." Rilarien stammered, her face turning red, "This evening I have promised my uncle to remain on my best behavior.  Please let me beg your apologies for the numerous times that I have created a stir.  I never before received the opportunity to ask your forgiveness face to face."  A gracious nod of the head was all Rilarien needed before she fled into the crowd.  Her sharp eyes spied Lómpalan dancing with a tall stranger.  Judging from his resemblance to the King of Mirkwood, Rilarien guessed that he was Legolas, the king's son.  Daedhel was mingling with the guests, his attention captured by several members of the Mirkwood court.  Panic started to rise in her throat as she bit her lip.  She nearly jumped out of her skin when Erndil's warm breath caressed her ear as he asked, "_Lle merna salk_ *do you want to dance*?"

Without waiting for her reply, the older elf caught her elbow and led her out onto the dance floor.  His grip was sure and comfortable about her waist, and his face was lit with happiness.  Gone were the dark green and blue clothing that Rilarien was used to seeing Erndil in, and in their stead a fine shirt of soft silver materiel.  Around the floor they danced.  Erndil pleasantly chatted, but she was finding it hard to concentrate upon his words.  Her glance kept wandering back to Galadriel, and every so often the elf found her gaze returned.  The music stopped, and Rilarien took the opportunity to escape Erndil's gasp.  She started easing herself toward the exit.  Erndil followed and stopped her before she completely left, backing her gently up against a wall.

                A teasing smile transformed his face as he spoke gently, "You seemed lost, dear Rilarien.  How are you going to be able to handle Elrond's court?"  A low chuckled left his throat, and Rilarien held her face in her hands.

                "Tis not funny, Erndil."  Her voice was muffled.

                "What's this?" He asked as he lifted her chin.  He brushed the tears from her face with his fingertips.  His fair face darkened with concern.  His voice grew gentle, "Rilarien…"

                "I need some time alone.  Please excuse me…" she forced a brave small smile to claim her lips, but the bravery didn't reach up into her eyes.  

                "Rilarien…" Erndil's voice lost all hints of laughter.  He watched as her eyes filled with tears.  Her chin quivered ever so slightly, and he gently cupped it.  Her skin was soft.  Warm tears dropped onto his hand.  The liquid shimmered in the dull light, reflecting small particles of light into the night.  He jumped slightly as her cold fingers entwined around his.

                "Please give the lord and lady my deepest apologies, and my uncle the same.  And please, Erndil," she gripped his hand firmly, "Dance with Lómpalan."  Kissing his cheek briefly, Rilarien vanished in a swirl of dark skirts.

                "You look beautiful tonight." Erndil's whispered compliment disappeared into the night with the fleeing Rilarien.  He touched his cheek, wishing deeply that she were still near.  The music once again began, but Erndil was drawn to the girl who was fleeing into the night.  He followed her.


	5. Memories

*I do not own Tolkein's characters, only my own

                Lómpalan felt giddy as Legolas danced gracefully around the floor with her.  He wasn't the best-looking elf, in all reality he was plain, but he was nice.  Her dancing partners rarely changed, and after a couple of waltzes around the floor, she couldn't see Rilarien.  Palan had noticed Erndil with her cousin earlier, and she couldn't help but feel a pain of jealousy as she watched him beam brightly down on the uninterested Rilarien.  Swaying her attention away from the other couple, Palan smiled at Legolas and submerged her thoughts deep into their conversation.  The merrymaking lasted well into the evening and the young elf kept a sharp eye out for Erndil, planning to drag him onto the dance floor, but he had disappeared just like Rilarien.

***

                The breath left her in ragged gasps.  Stumbling over exposed tree roots and tripping on her skirts, Rilarien made her way deeper into the forest.  The clearing was just ahead, her clearing, her secluded spot to loose all touch of reality.  The stars glinted down, winking their cold distant eyes at her mourning.  A memory had returned and Galadriel's words haunted her.  With the simple words of Celeborn, the resemblance of her mother, Rilarien remembered.  She shivered violently; the thin gown did little to hold in warmth.  She stood in the very center of the clearing, her head craned far back to stare at the stars.  Erndil watched her from his hiding place, curious of her strange actions.

                "_Mankoi _*why*?" She suddenly screamed into the night.  He jumped at the noise, and felt his heart tear in two as the moonlight glinted off her tear-stained face.  "Why did you leave me in a time such as this?  I cannot follow my heart, as the Lady has instructed, for it is still bound to you.  Dear mother, dear father…"  Rilarien fell to her knees, her shoulders drooped, and she hung her head in despair.  "Was it my fault?"  Time mingled with the night sounds.  Her sobs were soft among the distant songs.  Compassion filled Erndil's heart, but he resisted the urge to comfort her.  There were things that one left alone, and Rilarien's past was one of those.  

He knew little of her childhood outside of Lorien.  His first memory of her was a scrawny, dirty child clinging to Daedhel's hand.  Her pale eyes overtook her small face, and the dark tresses hung in many tangles.  The once green dress was too large for her small frame, but she curtsied properly when introduced to Celeborn and Galadriel, clumsily holding the long skirts out of the way.  Her thumb somehow found its way to her mouth, and she shyly hid behind Daedhel's knees.  Erndil's eyes grew cloudy as he watched her.  Rilarien had grown up into a beautiful elf, but her past still shadowed the smiles that lit her face.  

                "My lady?"  Both elves jerked their heads up.  Boromir emerged from the dark.  He was darkly clad, his dark hair falling about his shoulders.  In the musky darkness Erndil could see the hilt of Boromir's sword.  Erndil's throat tightened as he watched Rilarien's actions.  

                "Boromir!  How…?" Confusion filled Rilarien's words.  She stood and backed away as he stepped forward.  Never before had she felt intimidated by the mortal, but now she was exposed.  She felt bare as his eyes watched her.  Her darkness had been exposed.  

                "What is one to do when his hosts prepare a feast and he is not invited?" His voice was velvet soft, caressing Rilarien's ears.  She shivered.

                "You could stay in your quarters." Erndil whispered harshly to himself.  He felt jealousy boil up inside.  His hands dug into the soft ground, the dirt caked under his nails.  The man moved slowly over to Rilarien.  His hand on her shoulder made her flinch.

                "Who were they?" the man asked.  The tenderness remained in his voice.

                "Doesn't matter." Rilarien whispered.  Try as she might, she could not resist the tears that fell.  

                Firmly but gently he turned her around to face him.  He peered down into her face.  When she tried to look away, he caught her chin with his fingertips, moving it once again to look up at him.  She couldn't hold his gaze.  More tears fell.  "It must matter.  You're crying."  

                The muscles in her jaw moved quickly as she gritted her teeth.  Rien ran a sleeve over her face as she answered, "My parents."  

                The silence almost hurt.  Erndil strained to hear.  "What happened?" Boromir's voice was soft, "You wouldn't talk about it earlier today.  In fact you skirted the subject, something you don't normally do…"

                "I was young, very young," she interrupted.  Breaking from his grasp, she plopped down on the ground, her legs tucked about her.  "We went out for a walk.  I ran ahead, expecting my parents to follow quickly.  They weren't following me so I turned back, crested the hill and saw…" Her voice broke, but kept going, "Lord Elrond came and comforted me, but what comfort is to be had for an orphan?  I was taken here; it seemed like my parents' lives were quickly forgotten, and I just accepted it.  I chose not to remember any of it, but the memories come back.  They always come back…" Her voice trailed off at the end, and Boromir sat across from her.  

                "At the feast?"

                "My mother was a Lorien elf, my father was from Imladris.  Their differences were few, but their marriage was complicated.  She never talked about it here, the beauty, her family, even my cousin." A soft chuckle rose in her throat, "I don't believe she even knew my uncle had an offspring."  Rilarien's eyes narrowed as she looked at him.  "Why am I telling you this?"

                A wiry smile crosses Boromir's face.  "You'll never see me again once you leave for Rivendell.  I'm an ear to hear, but not a mouth to criticize.  I'm part of the race of men, and my days are numbered.  Whatever you tell me dies with me Rilarien, but you have to carry that burden for the rest of your years."

                " **'The doom of elves is to be immortal, to love the beauty of the world, to bring it to full flower with their gifts of delicacy and perfection, to last while it last, never leaving it even when slain…'**" *Silmarillion* Erndil strained to hear her as she spoke.  Rilarien wrapped her arms around herself, "You promise?"  Boromir nodded his head, and Rilarien's long narrative began.  Erndil melted back into the darkness as quietly as he could.  As he stalked back to the feast, he couldn't help but feel anger.  He had known Rilarien practically her whole life, but she rarely confided her darkest memories to him.  She gave not a word of her past, just talked about nonsense of everyday life.  

                In the dark he strung his bow and pulled the string back.  Arrow after arrow was shot into oblivion.  When his quiver was empty, the elf walked slowly back to the banquet hall.  Stoically he waltzed with Lómpalan, never once commenting during her vibrant chatter.  When Legolas tapped him on the shoulder to cut in, he graciously gave the Mirkwood Prince Palan's hand, but before he left to retire for the rest of the evening, he leaned close to whisper in Lómpalan's ear, "Heed my warning, Palan, stay away from our southern guest.  He is leading Rilarien astray, and I would hate to see you pulled into his disguised words.  The only result of the friendship between your cousin and the son of the Steward will be pain.  Believe me Palan…" The younger elf looked confused, but she nodded graciously, placing her trust in her long-time friend.  

***

                Lómpalan was puzzled, but she merely shrugged and finished the dance with Prince Legolas.  As they dined on delicious foods, their conversation remained light and merry.  Never had the elf experienced such festivities.  It was as if she was queen of the night and laughter, instead of blood, ran through her veins.  Late in the evening Daedhel managed to pull his daughter away.  

                "I had a lovely time, Lady Lómpalan," Legolas bowed as he smiled to the young elf.

                Palan curtsied politely, "As did I, Prince Legolas.  I thank you for such a pleasant evening, and I hope your travels lead you once again to the mellyrn of Lorien."

                "That would be delightful.  _Tenna' ento lye omenta arwenamin_ *until next we meet my lady*." They bid their goodnights.


End file.
